by Leo McNeir
“You look as if you slept well,” said Marnie. “I half expected you to be absorbed with the tapes this morning. Knowing you, I thought you’d be doing them before breakfast, thought I’d have to come and find you.”
“No need. I did them all last night. I couldn’t bear waiting any longer.”
“You did them?”
Anne sipped her orange juice. “Separated them out from the other tapes in the box – there are more than twenty of them – put them in order, made a list of all the numbers, four to a page so you can write notes on the contents if you want.”
“How many? Blimey, that’s a lot. Did you … listen to any of them?”
Anne shook her head. “I was curious, but once I’d got them organised I didn’t want to do anything else. I’m not even sure I want to hear them at all. But I’ve done my bit.”
“Are the numbers in chronological order? Are they dated?” Ralph asked.
“No, just numbers 01, 02 and so on. I thought maybe Mrs Taverner had gone through them afterwards to sort them out.”
“Why do you think that?”
“It looks as if they were all done together, same style, same pen, a felt-tip. They look all of a piece, the sort of thing I’d do on a rainy day, like sorting my CDs out, putting the loose ones back in their cases.”
Ralph nodded. “So she went over them systematically.”
“That was the idea,” said Marnie. “She was wanting to extend the experience. Where are they now?”
“The tapes are up in my attic under the bed,” Anne said. “The list’s on your desk.”
“Thanks, Anne. This morning I’ve got to prepare for my afternoon meeting in Hanford. We might get a chance to listen to one of the tapes at lunchtime before I set off.”
Marnie was wrong about that, too.
The phone was ringing when Marnie reached the office just before eight. It had to be a bad sign. She was right. When Marnie picked up the receiver the caller began without any introduction.
“I think I’ve done the wrong thing again. I shouldn’t have interrogated you like that.”
“That’s all right, Sarah. It was an odd situation. I don’t blame you. It’s an odd season.”
“I was just so surprised to find you there. One minute the police are asking me if I had any suspicions about who might burgle the flat, the next thing I turn and see you in the crowd. I mean, at that time on a Sunday morning, and you live fifty miles away.”
“Why didn’t they accept it was just a common burglary?”
“It was all very tidy, just a few things missing, the VCR, mini hi-fi, CDs, tapes, a few other bits and pieces.”
“The burglar was travelling light?” Marnie suggested.
“Marnie, what were you doing there? I can’t work it out. It couldn’t have been a coincidence.”
Marnie hesitated. “I can’t tell you that. You’ll have to ask Neil for an explanation.”
“Neil? What has Neil told you that he wouldn’t tell me?”
Marnie thought, if he hasn’t told you, perhaps he has a reason. “I’m not saying he won’t tell you. I am saying it’s up to him what he tells anyone. As for me, I’m treating everything he’s told me as confidential for the time being.”
“Er …”
“What?”
Sarah spoke slowly. “That might be tricky.”
“I understand that. All you’ve got to do is ask Neil and I’m sure he’ll explain.”
“It’s not Neil.”
“Go on.”
“It’s your own fault, Marnie, you should’ve talked to me instead of making a run for it. What was I supposed to think?”
“What have you done?”
“The police saw me talking to you and asked who you were and what we were talking about.”
“You told the police you suspected I was involved in some way? How could you think that?”
“I didn’t. I just told them I knew you but had no idea why you were there.”
“Did you give them my name?”
“I’m sorry, Marnie. I wasn’t thinking. I’d been dragged out of bed to attend the burglary at Neil’s flat and –”
“Sarah, you have to tell the police that my presence was not suspicious.”
“I think it’s probably too late for that, Marnie.”
Muttering to herself, Marnie ended the call and put the phone down. She looked up to find Anne standing at the foot of the loft ladder and Detective Sergeant Marriner in the doorway.
Marriner took a sip of his coffee and put the cup down on the desk. “Very nice. Thank you, Anne.” He looked at Marnie in a not unfriendly way. “All you have to do is persuade me that your presence at the scene of the burglary wasn’t suspicious and I can get back to filling in my crime statistics forms.”
“I’m glad to provide light relief from your chores, sergeant.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“The truth is I was on my way to Neil Gerard’s flat with his agreement, at his request.”
“Why so early?”
“I wanted to be in and out before people were around.”
“Like our burglar.”
“For slightly different reasons.”
“What were your reasons, Mrs Walker?”
“I admit I had gone there to try to find something.”
“What was it?”
“All I can say is it was something for Neil Gerard.”
“That surprises me. Why ask you to find it when he could easily have asked his sister?”
“That was his decision. You’ll have to ask him.”
“We have. He said he had nothing to say.”
Marnie was stunned. “He wouldn’t explain why I was there?”
“He said he couldn’t. Shall we start again?”
“I know we’ve had our ups and downs, sergeant, but you can’t believe I’d do anything illegal.”
“Our ups and downs, as you put it, generally involve you not telling us everything you know. Once it nearly cost you your life.”
“I want to tell you the truth, but it’s not as simple as that.” Marnie got up and walked over to the window. “I can say that I was going to Neil Gerard’s flat to try to find something he thought might help his appeal campaign.”
Marriner folded his arms. “The campaign being run by his sister who has keys to the flat, who can go there without hindrance whenever she wants?”
“Yes.”
“Then why not get her to do it?”
“That’s what I don’t know.”
“This something. Could it be evidence? Withholding evidence is quite a serious matter, Mrs Walker.”
“Not actually evidence, no, I don’t think so. Neil thinks it might be a pointer to what happened.”
“We’re not getting very far, are we?”
“Mr Marriner, in my working life I respect client confidentiality. I don’t talk about my clients or their projects to outsiders without their consent. I’m treating this the same way.”
Sergeant Marriner stood up and walked slowly to the door. “Tread carefully, Marnie. This isn’t the same thing as interior design. Think about it. The police aren’t involved in your usual work, nor are potential murderers.”
Marnie found concentration difficult that afternoon and hoped her clients did not notice. The young couple, Steve and Tricia Keating, who had recently bought a small manor house on the edge of Hanford with a view to reviving it were full of enthusiasm. Owners of a thriving and growing business, Marnie saw them as younger versions of Charles and Barbara. During the meeting she found herself wondering where their lives would lead them. She hoped she had managed to appear positive when discussing options.
On arrival back at Glebe Farm she was faced with a stack of messages from Anne who had worked on her college projects in the office so that she could man the phones. It was the end of the afternoon before any opportunity arose to listen to the tapes. Marnie waited until Anne had gone off to post letters at the village shop b
efore walking through the spinney to Sally Ann and loading the first tape into the cassette player.
She sat at the table, a pad in front of her with the pages printed by Anne for note-taking, prepared to listen objectively and try to spot any clues as to what happened that led to Barbara’s death.
At the first sound of Barbara’s voice Marnie was startled at the clarity of the recording. She spoke softly, her words intended for one person only, a warm intimate tone that the close confines of the cabin made even more close, even more personal. It was as if they were sitting together over a late-night drink. Marnie settled down and listened, feeling like an interloper, as Barbara spoke directly from beyond her grave.
29
The first tape.
Well here we go, darling
This is meant to be a surprise for you
I thought it up in the cab on the way back here
Let’s see if it works
I’m not sure how this will turn out but if it does it’ll keep us closer together at times when we’re apart
Isn’t this cosy?
I want you to imagine me here
It’s a beastly night – I hate the autumn
I was huddled up in the taxi coming back from your place, splashing through the traffic
It’s still raining outside – can you hear it on the window pane?
I want you to imagine me sitting here on the seat, looking down at the river
Everything’s lit up like a film set with this big black band where the river runs through the middle
I’m wearing my dressing gown
It’s Japanese silk, blue and gold
I’ll have a shower soon but I’m not ready yet to rinse you away
I’ve been thinking about the things you said
Usually I don’t pay any attention to what men say, especially on an afternoon like we had today
You probably think women like to hear men talk about how wonderful they are and all that jazz
Flattery is easy and it’s cheap
I mean, it doesn’t cost anything
It doesn’t have to be cheap in the other sense – don’t let me put you off saying things
But most of the time, frankly, I’d rather be complimented on the way I dressed
At least that would reflect on something I’d done rather than on something that I just happen to be by chance
So here I am, alone in a big house on a rainy evening
Charles is off on one of his interminable meetings followed by an interminable dinner at the conference centre
If the rain keeps up like this it’ll ruin his golf tomorrow
I notice you never criticise him, never have a harsh word for him
That’s good
Whatever he might be, it’s not for you to say it
I could call him a self-absorbed workaholic driven by ambition
He wouldn’t recognise himself in that description … he’d be horrified
I could say he spends more time with his laptop than he does with me
But I don’t ever want you to do that … to criticise him
And you never do, so that’s good
I wonder about you sometimes
Wonder why you always ask so many questions
It’s like the third degree being with you – not always but on days like today
I don’t mind talking about the past
Don’t mind talking about other people who’ve been part of my life, if it turns you on
And it certainly did that (she chuckled)
Just so long as it doesn’t grow into a subject for jealousy … argument
What’s gone before is over and done with
Ian … Clive … Piers … they were then, now is now
Then doesn’t matter, now does, for now
What I’m saying is, don’t spend too much time looking back to the past
Or trying to push into the future
Stolen moments like ours are one day at a time
Maybe a stolen season
Who knows?
Who can tell?
You were wrong to say I keep you dangling
That makes it seem like I have a plan of some sort
You were wrong to ask if there was anyone else in my life, in my bed
And even more wrong to get sensitive when I reminded you that Charles is in my life, yes, and in my bed too
What did you expect me to say – no … I am exclusively yours, now and forever?
You mustn’t expect me to lie
I wasn’t laughing at you when you talked about commitment
I was laughing at the idea, the way you put it
It’s usually the woman who wants commitment
The man is usually thinking about what to say so he can get laid
Afterwards he’s thinking about keeping his hands untied
It’s funny but most of the men in my life have been obsessed with themselves
Sex was just an extension of that
I’m starting to think, well, it’s possible you could be different
Yes, that’s what I said – in an unguarded moment perhaps – but it’s true
When you said how was it for you, I got the idea that you meant it
I only laughed because it’s such a cliché
Every woman knows it only means: how well did I perform in the sack?
It’s another male ego thing
It means, how good was I compared with other men you’ve slept with?
That’s all it means
No, not even that
It’s more like: tell me I’m better than all the others
Or rather, tell me I’m much better
Just don’t ever expect me to tell you
Even if I could remember
Even if it was possible to compare anything like that
But you have to realise you’re not the only man in my life
You have to understand that … and accept it
You ask me about others
So I tell you
And you say it’s because I – because I have feelings for you
I warned you of the dangers of that kind of conversation
But you insisted
And to be fair, you do seem able to take it
But don’t misinterpret what I said about Charles
Of course I would never talk to him that way
You don’t need me to tell you why
Think about it
Work it out, I know you can
You may not like the reasons
I can’t help that
There are lots of things I can’t do anything about
Don’t expect that to change
But if it’s any comfort to you I will say this
You’re the only man who’s ever made me laugh in the middle of trying to make the earth move (she laughed)
Silly expression – where did you say it came from?
Oh, yes … Hemingway … For Whom the Bell Tolls?
Sure, I’ll get round to reading it some time
But you know I’m not really the bookish kind of girl
You’ll have to find the relevant pages and read them to me
I know you’d enjoy that
I don’t do things on paper
Don’t even write letters
That’s why I’m sitting here looking out at the rain – it’s easing off now – talking into these machines
It’s not quite like talking to myself
I’m not even really sure why I’m doing it
I put it down to your influence
If I’m honest I’d probably admit I like the idea of extending our afternoon
You understood I had to get back
You didn’t make a fuss
That’s good
Charles is going to phone any time now
I’m going to be here when he does
Remember that
I’m always going to be here
I’m glad you didn’t turn funny whe
n I told you why I had to get back
It’s just part of reality
Don’t lose sight of that
Right, it’s time to slip out of the dressing gown and into the shower
Time to wash you away
Down the plug hole with you! (her laughter again)
I’ll listen to this in the morning
If I decide it’s too awful, too cringe-making, you’ll never hear it
Good night
Sweet dreams
30
There was a click and the tape went dead. Marnie fast-forwarded to the end and turned it over. Side two was blank. A fresh tape for each recording. She checked the note paper that Anne had printed for her. The last number was twenty-four. So presumably, two dozen assignations. Over what period of time? There was no mention of any date … an autumn evening. But when?
Marnie reached for the note paper and under the heading Tape One she wrote:
Timing – how long was their relationship?
When did it start?
Mention of Ian, Clive and Piers – how long were those affairs?
No mention of Mike Brent – when did that start?
When did it finish? (if it did finish)
The next question was what to do with the tapes. Marnie wanted Ralph to hear them so that she could get his views. But Anne? The fewer people who heard these the better. Marnie sat back in the chair and looked up at the ceiling. Three things immediately became clear.
One. The contents of the tapes would be heard by no-one else, except Ralph, assuming he wanted to listen.
Two. Neil’s reasons for not wanting his sister to hear them were obvious. They were too intimate. He wanted no-one else to be privy to these secret thoughts.
Three. Marnie was amazed to realise that Neil Gerard trusted her more than anyone. He was willing to share Barbara with no-one but her.
She stood up and went to the cellar, the cupboard in the galley where she kept the wine and spirits. She pulled out the bottle of Courvoisier and poured a measure. To her notes she added:
Barbara mentions “these machines”
Two recordings, one for Neil, one to keep for herself?
Why?
Marnie had thought she knew why, thought it was an intimate way of maintaining contact. She sat for some minutes thinking about that. It was certainly an original idea. Could she, Marnie, have imagined making tapes of that kind for a lover? No. But then she had never had a clandestine affair with a married man.